


i swear you'll never be lonely

by dirtmemer



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic lifestyle, Fluff, Living Together, M/M, My Dumb Boys, they are in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 10:39:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7264690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtmemer/pseuds/dirtmemer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I hate mornings,” you say. </p><p>“Hmm,” he says, tilting his head all dainty and bird-like. “Go take a shower.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	i swear you'll never be lonely

**Author's Note:**

> _and then you turned, put out your hand_  
>  _and you asked me to dance_  
>  _i knew nothing of romance,_  
>  _but it was love at second sight_  
>  \--The Gambler, Fun.

You wake up to someone opening your curtains. You know exactly who the person blinding you with bright morning sun is, and you curl into a ball with your blanket over your head, like if you pretend he's not here long enough he'll actually let you sleep in for at least one more hour. 

“No,” you say, with feeling. 

“Yes!” he says, tugging at your blanket mercilessly. “C'mon, it's _Thursday_ , you've got class in an hour!” 

“ _An hour_ ,” you repeat grumpily. Your blanket is wrestled off you, and fuck, it is cold as shit nuggets. It is cold like you are in fucking Antartica or something, that's how cold it is. 

“You told me to wake you up,” he reminds you, prodding and poking and shoving until you give in and roll off the bed with your eyes still closed. “C'mon, Tetsu! Wakey wakey eggs and bakey!” 

“Objection,” you say. You squint up at him, and he is silhouetted in fucking rays of sunlight like some sort of angel of vengeance and bad wake up calls. “I cannot smell any eggs. Don't lie to me.”

“I haven't started on breakfast,” he says, and he tugs you up by the armpits. You hiss faintly at him, swiping your hand vaguely in his direction. “Honestly, Tetsu, you're more than six feet tall, this is fucking _difficult_ -” 

You go ostensibly limp. This is a protest, and you are a radicalist or something, spray-painting brick walls with slogans of 'fuck mornings!' or maybe 'night time or nothing!'. 

“I'd use red,” you say. He's successfully hauled you all the way to the bathroom. Oh man, is he ever strong. 

“Context, please,” he says. How is he so cheerful in the morning? Illogical, absurd, preposterous. 

“I hate mornings,” you say. 

“Hmm,” he says, tilting his head all dainty and bird-like. “Go take a shower.” 

You make a face. It must be a good one, because he laughs. His smile is star bright and huge through the mirror, at least the size of canis major or something. His hair is still ungelled, soft and falling into his eyes. You want to pet him on his head, the adorable bastard. 

“Go 'way,” you say grouchily. “Make me breakfast. Like, five eggs. And toast. And coffee.” 

“Picky,” he tuts at you. “It's a good thing I love you.” 

“I am the _most_ finicky,” you admit. You shut the door before he can say anything else and you give in and kiss him with your gross morning breath. 

“You're adorable!” he calls through the door. You catch sight of your own reflection. You're grinning something wide and dopey and stupid. You look like you're in love, like you've been in love for your entire life. It's morning and you're awake and you have him here. With you. It's terrible and dumb and you're so happy. 

He's got breakfast ready when you finally get out of the shower. He's made you toast and two eggs instead of five, and you appreciate it. 

“Coffee,” he says, and pushes a cup towards you. 

“Bokuto Koutarou you are a gift to this world, I swear,” you say gratefully, gulping it down. You burn your tongue. It's all good, everything is good. Mornings that smell like coffee and eggs and toast and his shampoo. You think you're coming around, after all. 

“I am the actual best,” he says proudly, coming over to your side of the table, nestling into your lap affectionately. You give him a big wet coffee-flavored kiss. 

“I love you,” you say easily. It's not a big confession, just three words and your mouth and his smile, beautiful and shining. 

“You're awake,” he says, laughing. “You were so grouchy just now.” 

“Yeah,” you say. You put half an egg in your mouth, smearing your face with yolk. 

“Gross,” he complains, sticking his tongue out at you. 

“You love me,” you say, and he rests his head on your shoulder. 

“I do,” he says. “I really do,” he goes, all soft and gentle and tender and sweet. The sweetest person you've ever met, saying the sweetest things, sitting heavy in your throat and your heart and all the important squishy bits of you. 

“Gay,” you mutter quietly, buckling immediately under the poignant atmosphere. 

“Flatterer,” he coos. “Sweet-talker. You always know what to say.” 

You laugh. “Hell yes,” you say, stuffing the rest of your breakfast into your mouth. “I'm the king of words, it's me. Gonna compliment you to death.” 

“Oh no,” he says, swooning dramatically. “Save me, someone, anyone! My boyfriend's a ruthless charmer!” 

“You've got beautiful eyes,” you whisper conspiratorially, and he cackles, loud and throaty. 

“God, Tetsu,” he says breathlessly. “You nerd. Get lost. You're gonna be late for class.” 

“Worth it,” you say, smiling. 

“Come on,” he says. “Don't let my hard work go to waste, man.” 

“Okay, okay,” you say. You grab your bag. “I'm leaving, honey.” 

“Stay safe, dearest,” he says, and flutters his eyelashes at you. God, he's so dumb and cute. You thumb at his jaw. 

“Give me a goodbye kiss,” you demand. “You lucky little shit. I can't believe you've got a whole three days off.” 

He grins. “Jealousy isn't a good look on you, Tetsu,” he says, snickering, and he grabs your face and smooches you. 

“You're incredibly silly,” he says, with his hands on your face and pajamas and messy hair. “Go and have a good day.” 

“You'll be here when I come back?” you ask, and he gives you a lovely little smile. 

“Sure,” he says. A promise.


End file.
